Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner
by killer cereal
Summary: "Brittany and Santana aren't allowed within fifty yards of each other, and when in school and there's no choice but for them to be in the same room they have to have bodyguards."  "But why?"
1. Chapter 1

_Dedicated to bohemianBOOMAN (See, told you I would XD ) and kempokarate12, thanks for all your help =D_

* * *

**Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner**

Mercedes paused from her competitive warm up/getting-a-bit-aggressive sing off with Rachel to stare, open mouthed, along with the other assembled Glee club members as Brittany walked into the room. At her side was a man at least 7ft tall, dressed in a black suit with a crew cut and the mentality which involved wearing black sunglasses indoors. He ushered her to the far side of the room and they sat down in the front row on the chairs nearest one of the exits.

"What's going on?" Mercedes asked in a hushed voice to Kurt and Rachel who were with her. "Is that a bodyguard?"

Kurt's mouth gaped openly. "Why does Brittany have a bodyguard?"

"Well," Rachel began. She took a deep breath savouring the moment as she delighted in being the bearer of gossip for once. "I heard from Finn, who heard from Sam, who heard from Quinn, who heard it from Puck that Brittany and Santana aren't allowed within fifty yards of each other, and when in school and there's no choice but for them to be in the same room they have to have bodyguards."

"But why? And why do you talk in such long sentences?" Kurt asked, shaking his head puzzled for so many different reasons.

"No one knows," Rachel stage whispered a little too over dramatically. "If anyone tries to get near, the bodyguard takes Brittany away."

"Santana has one too?" Kurt's query was answered as Santana entered the room trailed by a man almost identical to Brittany's bodyguard. Santana looked over at Brittany with a longing glance but her bodyguard guided her to the seat furthest away from Brittany, who was staring miserably at her feet and didn't look up.

Rachel, Kurt and Mercedes were joined by Tina and Mike and they all put their heads together muttering and whispering.

"I heard it had something to do with what happened over Spring Break."

"I thought they were going to the Caribbean with Santana's parents."

"I heard they were going to California with Brittany's parents."

"Brittany wouldn't shut up about Vegas before the break."

They all stared in fascination at the two girls at opposite ends of the room, each dying a little bit to know what had happened during that fateful vacation.

* * *

**The previous day...**

"We both received the same letter this morning."

Santana and Brittany sat at the kitchen table in the Lopez household having returned from their first after school Cheerios practice since returning to school after the vacation. They had been hoping to raid the fridge without interference only to find, to their horror, both their mothers sitting in wait for them.

"What letter?" Santana asked uneasily, nudging Brittany to keep quiet and let her handle this, whatever this was. Her mind did cartwheels as she tried to think of something they'd done to warrant this unexpected tag team attack in her kitchen. A horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach gave her a fair idea of what was coming.

"How can you both get the same letter?" Brittany asked, scrunching her nose up in consideration feeling the pressure decidedly less than Santana. "Isn't that like a physical impossibility?"

"We both got a copy of the same letter, Brittany," her mother explained a bit more precisely for her scatterbrained daughter. "They say the same thing."

"Let's just push aside the fact you lied to us about where you were spending the spring break for the moment and concentrate on this." Mrs Lopez slapped the sheet of paper on the table in front of them and leaned back with her arms folded across her chest as the girls leaned over and studied the letter.

"I don't know what that means," Brittany muttered, not making eye contact with anyone. She actually had a good enough idea on what the letter was about from just looking at the letterhead.

"Santana?"

Santana's eyes were wide and her mouth dropped open as she read the offending article. "This is a joke or some kind of mistake," she swallowed, her cheeks flushing red.

"Santana." Her mother repeated her name, her tone a clear warning to not even attempt to lie.

"I don't know what this is or what you're talking about," she spluttered. The two older women were sporting distinctly unbelieving and unimpressed looks all directed at Santana, a fact she was quick to refute. "Why does everyone automatically think everything is my fault?"

Santana's mother rolled her eyes, eerily identical to Santana's go-to unimpressed look and Brittany's mother gave her a frank raised eyebrow, both set to remind her that these weren't two faceless adults she had to deal with daily, like the endless stream of 'educators' from the piss poor educational system or some annoying waitress or manager at BreadstiX who she liked to argue with as often as possible. These women were her and her best friend's mothers and knew her better than anyone else in the world, sans Brittany of course.

"Are you saying this is my fault?" Brittany demanded, swivelling around on her stool to face Santana.

"No. I just want to make the point very clear to everyone in this room, who should know better, that... Brittany makes me do loads of things and I always get the blame."

"You always take the blame," Brittany's mother clarified with infinite patience built up from years spent with Brittany. "That's different."

"Santana," her mother said with a sigh. "It's not for nothing I'm your mother, you know. Now, sign this and that'll be it."

"This isn't fair, I'm not taking the blame for this," Santana persisted in stressing the point.

Brittany peered over to look at the letter but didn't lift her hands from her lap as she was ordered to: "Sign it."

"Are you laughing?" Santana almost squeaked in disbelief as Brittany appeared to be struggling to keep a straight face.

"I'm not ashamed of anything," Brittany sat up straight and smirked as Santana dropped her head onto her hands in despair. "And I've done nothing wrong, so everyone stop trying to guilt me. Why does everything have to be a big deal? We don't have to tell anyone. Just until we figure out what to do."

"Are you seriously telling me you are going to go to school like this?" Brittany's mother asked, her eyes fixed on her determined daughter with a ghost of a smile dusting her lips. She was well aware of her daughters feelings towards Santana and had been for as long as Brittany had. Brittany never hid anything from her and honestly believed there was nothing to hide. Santana on the other hand had her face planted into her arms folded on the table and was praying fervently for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. _Now. Right now, please God, now._

"I'm not signing anything." Brittany protested. "I don't know what most of these words mean, it could be anything and I don't even remember it happening. I could be signing my soul away for all I know." She turned to Santana worriedly and nudged her arm. "Could that actually happen?"

"You can't sign your soul away." Santana lifted her head from the table to reassure Brittany.

"But isn't that what happened to Coach? Someone said once."

"No B. She's just the regular kind of evil."

Their mothers exchanged a frustrated glance. It amused and perplexed them no end to see how codependent the two girls were. "Do you know what would happen if your fathers ever heard about this?" Mrs Lopez interrupted them before they went off on the usual long, rambling, random conversation she had been witness to many a time before.

"What would happen?" Brittany gasped, wide eyed.

"You'd be split up. One family would probably have to move away and you wouldn't see each other again."

Brittany's eyelashes fluttered as she blinked furiously trying to stop tears from falling. A tear escaped and dropped onto the paper in front of her, the ink on the typed letters **'annul'** began to run as she cried.

"Shhh, it's okay." Santana put a comforting arm around her. "I wont let that happen. That'll never happen." She glared at both their mothers with her expression reading, _what the hell did you say that for?_ "If they tried it, we'd run away. It's okay B, it's okay."

Both women looked guilty and upset at Brittany's breakdown. "I'm sorry Britts," said her mother. "We, non of us, would ever let that happen," she assured her daughter. "I promise."

"If you sign this they need never know. If you don't... there'll be more paperwork coming and we might not be able to intercept it," Santana's mother explained. "How did you pay for it?"

"I don't remember," admitted Santana.

At that moment the door slammed open and Dr Lopez marched in only to come to an abrupt halt, appearing a little taken aback by the group of women all looking upset in his kitchen. They all watched him warily as he went to the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice.

"What are you doing home so early?" his wife asked anxiously.

"Hmmm. Early finish for once. Is that a problem?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the strange reception he was receiving. "So, what's going on?" He waved a hand around the room vaguely indicating everything and nothing in general.

"Nothing," said his wife.

"What's the matter with Britt?"

"Something at school," jumped in Santana.

Her father cocked his head to the side as he watched his daughter carefully. His eyes narrowed. "So. I had an interesting conversation with someone from my credit card company this morning." As everyone froze he paused, relishing the resounding silence, stretching it out as he poured a glass of juice. You could have heard a pin drop and bounce off the tension building in the room. "Do you have your card still, Santana?" He asked innocently.

"Uh, yeah," she gasped.

"Would you get it for me please?"

"Sure." She reached down and grabbed her purse out of her bag, opened it and dropped the card on the table sliding it towards him.

"Uh huh, I see." He placed it back down on the table in front of her. "I saw Harry at work today. It's okay," he said, immediately reassuring Brittany and her mother that Mr Pierce was safe and well. "He's fine. He brought in a colleague who'd hurt his hand. The point is, I asked him how the vacation had been and had Santana behaved herself."

Santana suddenly found the table top very interesting.

"To be honest, he looked at me like I'd grown another head. Then, he said he had been under the impression that Britts had spent the vacation with us, not the other way around." His wife opened her mouth to speak but her husband cut her off. "Oh, I haven't finished. It gets better."

He perched on the vacant stool next to Brittany who had begun to fidget right around the beginning of this little speech. "We compared notes. Turns out, they weren't with us and they weren't with the Pierces. But judging from the expressions on all your faces, you knew that already."

"We found out today," admitted Brittany's mother with a sigh.

"I see." He stood next to Brittany who had her eyes scrunched closed. She was not good under pressure and had never mastered the art of keeping a secret. Unfortunately, everyone in the Lopez kitchen at that moment knew that fact.

"The credit card company wanted to ask if I knew anything about someone using my card, and, you might want to sit down for this ladies, someone used my credit card to get married in a Las Vegas chapel. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? But that can't be the case seeing as you still have your card. Right Santana?"

With her eyes shut, Santana gulped and nodded. "Right," she whispered.

His gaze moved from Santana to Brittany who opened one eye and then shut it again as she noticed his gaze on her.

"Brittany, what happened?"

"Don't say anything," ordered Santana.

"Santana!" warned her mother.

"Did you lie to us about your whereabouts over spring break, run off to Vegas and get married?" Dr Lopez demanded, hitting the nail on the head.

"As if we would ever do anything so stupid. Pah!" Santana flicked her hands up in the air dismissing his question as ridiculous.

"We don't know!" spluttered Brittany. "I think we were drunk and can't remember anything. Apart from winning a wedding voucher at the casino, I remember that."

Dr Lopez put his glass down on the table and smirked at breaking Brittany so easily. Her shoulders slumped as she realised what she had done. "Vegas?" he inquired simply with a raised eyebrow.

"I saw a movie about counting cards and wanted to try it," said Brittany. "Or if that didn't work we were going to rob it."

"Brittany," Santana groaned through gritted teeth.

"Why?" Dr Lopez asked in wonder, Brittany never ceased to amaze him with some of the things she came out with.

"For fun."

Santana's face was firmly planted into her hands and she wondered if it would be possible to smother herself quickly or if her mother would stop her before she had a good shot at succeeding. Brittany's filter was faltering fast and Santana's influence over her wavered uncertainly under their parents' presence.

"Santana?"

"It always sounds like a good idea when Brittany first says it," she shrugged in explanation.

Alas, her father was not impressed with her attempt at nonchalance. "You had better sign that bit of paper your mother has got stuffed up her sleeve or you'll soon realise you've never known the true meaning of the word trouble." He looked his wayward daughter straight in the eye. She glared right back.

"I'm pretty certain that as they're under age it wont be legally binding," pointed out Mrs Lopez.

"Sign the paper," he demanded slapping a pen down in front of Brittany who flinched at the unexpected move.

"Don't talk to her like that," Santana snapped at him.

"I beg your pardon, do you mean your _wife_?"

"Yes," she hissed defiantly, frowning back at him with a scowl identical to his own.

"Do you have any idea of how ridiculous this all is? How tacky and cheap and not in the slightest bit amusing this is? If word of this ever got out my reputation would be in shreds. What the hell possessed you to do something so downright stupid?"

"Alcohol," muttered Brittany, wiping tears from her cheek. Then she whispered something no one could quite catch, except Dr Lopez who thought he heard the word 'love' muffled beneath a sniff and a sob.

"Not only incriminating, god knows who and what and where, for underage everything!" he shouted, then took a step back as though he realised how upset he was making Brittany.

A muscle flickered in Santana's clenched jaw, torn between launching herself over the table at her father and throttling him for making Brittany cry or comforting Brittany who was hiccuping, a warning sign for oncoming inconsolable tears.

Brittany eyes glazed over with tears as she saw Santana lean over and scribble furiously at the paper. The letter was then pushed in front of her. She stared down at it trying not to sob at how horrible everyone was being. So what if they had got married, so what was everyone's problem? It was no ones business but their own. She looked down at what Santana had written, hiccuped and picked up the pen. She scribbled as fast as she could and dropped the pen as though it had stung her. Santana grabbed the paper, crumpled it up and threw it at her father. It bounced off his chest and rolled across the floor.

"There. Happy?"

Brittany's mother slapped her hand down on the counter making the girls jump and diffusing the confrontation between Santana and her father. Brittany looked guiltily anywhere but at her mother. Now what was happening?

"You girls listen to me very carefully. When you two get married your whole families will be there. Your friends will be there. You will be sober. You will not be in Las Vegas and you madam," she pointed to Brittany. "Will be wearing your grandmother's wedding dress. Do you understand me?" Both girls were nodding in fear at this new experience, Brittany's mother never got angry. She walked around and took Brittany by the shoulder leading her away from her other half. "Come on Britts. I think you and Santana have caused enough trouble for one day."

Santana watched them get into the car through the window as she remained at the table waiting anxiously until her father dismissed her. Her mother picked up the crumpled letter and unwrapped it. Her posture changing dramatically, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she read where the girls had signed their names and then showed it to her husband.

_Carlos Santana_

_Britney Spears_


	2. Chapter 2

**McKinley High music room**

"What's going on?" Quinn muttered as she sat down on the row in front of Santana, running a suspicious eye over the bodyguard beside her.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Santana crossed her arms and looked away with a disgusted scowl on her face.

"Brittany looks upset. Did you do something stupid again?" Santana fixed Quinn with a death stare to which Quinn held her hands up in a peaceful gesture. "I'm just saying because it's happened before."

"I'm having a minor disagreement with my dad. This is his way of keeping me in line, keeping me apart from B, until I do what he wants me to," Santana huffed.

"Which is?"

"Never going to happen."

"Brittany doesn't look very happy about it."

Santana flinched at the truth in that statement. She was right. Brittany looked miserable and Santana felt miserable, even though it was cushioned behind a haze of anger and sulking. Brittany had no such defence mechanism. Brittany peered over to where Santana was slumped scowling in her chair. Watching her, Santana gave her a gentle smile. Brittany's face lit up as she smiled back, and, just like that, it was all going to be okay.

"Screw this," muttered Santana. She wasn't going to let her father get the better of her. "We got non married," she confessed to Quinn.

"You... I... huh. Pardon?" Quinn's brow wrinkled in puzzlement as she tried to decipher the other girl's words.

"We ran away to Vegas and apparently somehow got non married."

"Miss Lopez," interrupted the bodyguard.

"Butt out, Arnie. This is a private conversation."

"Your father insisted you don't talk about this."

"Whatever I want to talk about is none of your business. If I can't talk to B, I'm sure as hell gonna unload on Q. So you can tell my dad to shove his pathetic attempt at control up his..." The buzz of conversation which had filled the room dropped as everyone looked over at the commotion Santana was causing.

Immediately Brittany's bodyguard grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the door. "Santana!"

Santana looked over at where Brittany was being dragged away. "Hey, get your hands off her!" she demanded, jumping up to help her but her bodyguard stopped her. "Dude, you ever heard of assault?" She spluttered furiously.

"Santana!" Brittany called again trying to wriggle out of the MIB's grasp.

Santana's own terminator grabbed her and dragged her towards the opposite door. "It's okay, B. I'll sort this. I promise!" She called as she was pulled down the hallway.

An uncomfortable shocked feeling descended on the room with everyone trying to figure out what was happening. "What does non married mean?" Quinn asked an open question to the room.

* * *

Santana was driven home by the bodyguard who refused to acknowledge her. To be more accurate, he refused to respond to all the snide remarks she had showered down on him throughout the day and the verbal assault she was currently inflicting on him. Once she was released into the custody of her father at the Lopez house he left in hurried relief. He didn't get paid enough for this sort of thing. Teenage girls should come with a health warning.

"Sit," was the only word her father bestowed upon her as he led her to the kitchen table.

Santana plonked herself down at the counter again ready and willing for another fight with her parents. To her unease she was left alone for a few minutes but didn't dare leave the table. The doorbell rang and Brittany and her mother appeared in the kitchen accompanied by Santana's parents. Brittany skipped over before anyone could say anything and sat down next to Santana. They linked pinkies and both immediately felt relieved after having spent the day forced apart.

"Is Harry not coming?" Dr Lopez inquired to Brittany's mother.

"No. He has to work I'm afraid." Dr Lopez didn't look pleased at that piece of news. He had a sneaking suspicion the Pierces and to an extent his wife weren't taking this as seriously as he was. "He and Brittany had a talk and Harry made his views perfectly clear," Mrs Pierce explained. Brittany nodded at her words. Her father had told her as he always had throughout her life, to tell the truth and be respectful to Dr and Mrs Lopez. He never actually mentioned the wedding, only remarked, "Don't run off again without telling us where you're going."

An expectant air descended upon the kitchen as Santana and her father mentally prepared themselves for round two. The girls sat together at the table while their parents stood about them. "How was school?" Dr Lopez started them off.

"Awful," Santana answered cautiously. "Everyone wanted to know why we had guards."

"And what did you tell them?"

"I told them Brittany tried to murder me in a jealous rage and it was for my own protection."

"I told them it's cos I'm super famous," Brittany beamed.

Dr Lopez was sorry he asked. "Does this mean you're ready to sign this form yet or do you want another day kept apart with guards? You're clearly nothing but trouble when you're together."

Santana inspected her nails carefully waiting for her father to make a move and Brittany just waited expectantly for Santana's lead. He sighed with exasperation.

"I have to phone the security agency tonight, John quit."

"Who's John?" Brittany asked.

"Santana's guard." Santana smirked.

"Oh. Can I have new one too? I don't think Francis likes me."

"Who's Francis?"

"My guard."

"His name is Steve."

"Oh. That may be why he didn't answer my questions. I thought he was being rude."

"What did you ask him B?" Santana asked with a smile.

"I asked if he was a secret agent or in the FBI. And if he'd ever seen aliens and had he ever been shot. And why was he wearing sunglasses indoors. That was a bit weird." Santana nodded in agreement, those were totally acceptable questions to ask.

Mrs Lopez put a placating hand on her husband's arm as she noticed his jaw clench at the obliviousness of the two girls. Trying to drag the conversation back on track he cut in. "We spoke to the solicitors and the registry office, and that place which has the nerve to call itself a chapel. I cannot believe it but they are actually really and truly legally licensed. They refused to give me the name of the idiot who performed the ceremony. Probably trying to protect him because when I get a hold of him he will never work in this country again. Do either of you remember his name?" Santana shrugged her answer.

Brittany thought hard and then said, "I think he said his name was Elvis."

Dr Lopez took a deep breath, grabbed on hard to the edge of the table and counted to ten. His wife spoke for him as he tried to calm himself, explaining to the girls and also Brittany's mother what they had discovered that day via numerous angry phone calls. "We found out that they must get a lot of... mistaken weddings. They send out a lot of these forms just in case. Fifty percent are usually annulled." She laid out an annulment form and the suspect marriage certificate. Brittany looked at it with great interest. "It arrived today," said Mrs Lopez.

"There's nothing to annul," Santana insisted, trying not to look interested. "We were under age, didn't have parental consent and were drunk. We're not signing anything."

"What if there's a tiny loophole somewhere in which you find out in ten or twenty years down the line you actually were married?" Santana's father asked her, incredulous she hadn't considered such a thing.

"What if?" Santana shrugged her shoulders.

Mrs Lopez sighed and exchanged an exasperated glance with Brittany's mother as Santana and her father initiated another glare off. "We are only trying to protect you girls because we love you." She looked directly at Santana who rolled her eyes and sighed.

It had an effect though because she backed down a little and tried to explain herself to her father, who truth be told, she adored and hated fighting with. And anyway, it wasn't much fun trying to walk the fine line between her loyalty to her father and her loyalty to Brittany. "Dad. I will do pretty much anything you ask me. Just cos. But you went and upset Brittany," she said ominously as though that last sentence explained everything.

Her father frowned at her, thinking hard, watching as she shifted in her chair and moved unconsciously closer to Brittany, linked pinkies never wavering. "Let me get this absolutely crystal clear. What you're saying is..." he pondered provocatively. "You want to stay faux married?"

Santana gave Brittany a nervous glance who in return just stared at her with avid interest waiting for her decision. _Shit, when did it get so hot in here? _Santana wondered. She gulped and put her hand across her eyes wiping a bead of sweat away. To her horror her hand shook a little as she considered the choice she was making. This was not the way she had ever envisaged being called out on her feelings for Brittany. In front of her parents and before Brittany's family. But, Britt seemed really kind of pleased they'd got married even if they really hadn't or it wasn't going to stick. It would make Brittany happy if they were non married.

"I, uh. I..." She sighed. "Oh God. Well... why not?"

Brittany squealed and flung her arms around Santana's neck gripping her in a bear hug. "We got non married!"

Santana's father shook his head in a stunned kind of disbelief. Santana took the void marriage certificate out of his hands and read it carefully. She looked up at her father and she could swear there was a glimmer of a twinkle in his eye. She turned and handed the certificate to Brittany. Brittany hugged Santana and sat down chuckling happily and reading the certificate. Santana just shrugged at their parents. It made Brittany happy and that's all that mattered, therefore, she could keep it.

"Oh, you know what?" Santana settled back down in her chair with a deep sigh. "I just had a vision."

"What was it? Was it like the time the Cheerio pyramid collapsed on top of me because Andrea accused Katy of looking up her skirt and they were all really heavy and I couldn't breathe and everything got really dark and then I could hear music like a brass band or something and I thought I was dying and there were like angels playing trumpets but then you pulled me out and it went away?"

"No B. The trumpets were the marching band practising on the field."

"Oh," Brittany cocked her head to the side as though she had never considered that before.

"I just got a feeling of total certainty that you're going to be the death of me."

"Whoa, okay now. Can we stop with the near death visions and marching bands and focus for a moment," interrupted Santana's father before he got dragged any further into the weirdness of their conversations. "What actually happened in Vegas? And why does it say that Barbra Streisand was a witness at your wedding? I think you remember a lot more than you're letting on. If you tell us what happened I could be persuaded to let all of this drop."

The girls exchanged a glance. "I remember getting there and the free cocktails," Brittany grins.

"I remember pirates and money and handcuffs," Santana mused.

"I remember leaving in a hurry with the security guard hanging onto the car. And I lost my shoes." Brittany leaned over and whispered in Santana's ear. "Do you think it would be better not to tell them about the tattoos just yet?"

Santana's eyebrows rocketed sky high. "What tattoos?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi folks. Firstly, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed or alerted. It's nice to know I am not the only insane person writing and reading this stuff._

_Secondly, a few words to explain some wild inaccuracies and crazy shit. I am from the UK and I've never been to Vegas. This is all made up (clearly) and I have taken vast liberties with everything and everyone including a certain singer. If said singer is reading (what? it could happen) I'm sorry and please don't sue/kill me etc. _

**VEGAS - PART 1**

_**Las Vegas - Post incident**_

In the casino big cheese's office a young, floppy haired security guard reported to his boss, the owner and director of the casino. "Did you find them Joe?"

"No sir. The name they booked in with was different to the one on the credit card. We can run a trace on both, but sir, they left several thousand dollars worth of cash in their room."

"Enough to cover the damage?"

"Yes sir, and more."

"Hmm. All the same, put those posters up around town and get them in the system. Inform the FBI as well, I don't want them anywhere near here again."

"Is it really necessary to involve the FBI, sir? They didn't steal anything, well, except for a Barbra Streisand poster."

"Don't tell me they got to you as well. I see here you've put in a claim for loss of handcuffs, uniform and security card."

The guard hanged his head in shame.

"Take it out of the money in their room. I expect they're responsible." Joe didn't refute that assumption.

* * *

_**Las Vegas – Pre incident**_

Brittany held tightly to the wind-shield of Santana's convertible, her hair flipped around in the wind as she whooped and hollered in delight at the surrounding sights. "We're in Vegas baby!" she shouted and dropped down laughing into the passenger seat beaming at Santana beside her who was trying to concentrate on driving while laughing at Brittany's enthusiastic arrival in the city. "Which hotel are we staying at? Can we go to the one with the pirates?"

"Which one has pirates?"

"I'm not sure. It was on Miss Congeniality 2." (_not that I've ever seen that movie, readers. ahem.)_

"B, as much as we deserve the sparkliest, shiniest, swankiest hotel. We'll be slumming it in a motel."

"Awww," Brittany pouted. "You said anything I want. I want the Luxor or the Bellagio. It'll be easier to carry the wonga to our room if we're in the same building as the casino."

"Wonga?" She had to ask.

"It means money, duh. Like gravy, greenbacks, dough, dosh, bread..." Santana groaned as Brittany reeled off a list of money slang. As if Brittany wasn't already confusing enough.

"God, B. How many Vegas movies have you been watching?"

"All of them. How much money do you think we're going to win?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you. Hopefully enough to pay for the motel. We have to pay cash or my dad will find out we're here if I use his card to pay for a swanky suite in a Vegas hotel."

"So pay the swanky in cash. We can use our casino winnings, I bet they get that all the time. Please?" she fluttered her eyelashes and pouted as pathetically as possible.

_For christssakes S. Pull yourself together and say no to her for once._

"Okay."

Brittany grinned from ear to ear then launched herself across the car and kissed Santana on the cheek. Santana's cheeks flushed pink as she tried not to crash. This, parentally unapproved, vacation was in celebration of the fact that Brittany had seen the light and ditched Artie and much to Santana's delight, consequentially had lot's more time to spend with her best friend.

"Let's have the best time ever and forget all about that little hiccup that shall not be named," Santana declared.

"Huh, do you mean Artie?"

"That shall not be named," Santana sighed.

"Oooh. Got it." Brittany giggled, leaning back and waving her arms up in the air feeling the wind slip through her fingers and the sun warming her skin. "I've got a warm squiggly feeling Vegas is going to be awesome."

They drove down the strip meandering through the traffic with Brittany hanging over the side of the car drinking in the atmosphere. "That one, that one!" She almost jumped out of the car as she shouted, catching a glimpse of a giant pyramid. "Lets stay there! No look! That one's got fountains! That one, that one!"

Santana couldn't take much more of the screaming in her ear so pulled over into the nearest big shiny hotel, Caesar's Palace.

They handed the car over to valet and grinned as porters took their luggage. As they walked into the lobby and saw the fancy décor Santana began to feel unsure about this. "Have we got everything? Let's do the checks. Fake ID?"

"Check."

"Cash?"

"Check. What are you going to spend your winnings on?" Brittany asked as Santana stared blankly ahead, her mind trying to sabotage the trip.

_Oh why did she have to say that. What was this voice in her head, was she growing a conscience? Was a mini version of her father sitting on her shoulder whispering common sense into her ear? That's incredibly irresponsible Santana, he was saying. You're supposed to look out for Brittany not drag her to Vegas_ _to run wild in. Did you really think this was a good idea?_

"I'm not sure about this," she squeaked, her eyes finally focusing on Brittany.

Brittany stood directly in front of her and put her hands on her shoulders. "It's okay, breathe. I'm a pro."

Santana's nose wrinkled up. _What?_ She mouthed in dread.

"I can do this, win the money. I've been training on everyone in school. No one has any money for their spring break now, especially the footballers. I took them to the cleaners. Breathe, babe, just remember to breathe. For once let me worry about stuff. If we don't win we can rob the casino, or rob someone who's won loads of money or find some guy who's won and persuade him to give us his money."

"Hopefully it wont come to that," Santana said, in dismay.

"Come on, San. Like seriously, how much trouble could we possibly get into if we're together?" Brittany gave her a blinding smile and her mind rolled over and turned to mush.

_Well, okay then. Totally whipped, _she admitted to herself and sighed.

"Alright. Remember what we discussed and let me deal with this," Santana said, her voice oozing confidence she wasn't quite feeling all the way to her toes. She made her way over to the front desk.

"Hi. We'd like a suite."

"Certainly, that will be 2000 dollars a night."

"How much?" It came out in a hushed whisper and Santana paled.

"It's cool we can pay cash with our winnings, right?" asked Brittany with a confident smirk.

"Certainly. So long as we have a credit card on file." The attendant behind the desk raised an eyebrow. "Just in case. Miss?"

"Berry, Rachel Berry." Santana smiled a big cheesy broadway grin.

"And I'm Quinn Fabray, tee hee." Brittany giggled, seemingly oblivious to the slight dig just given to them by the woman behind the desk. She tugged a lock of hair and twirled it in her fingers in a passable imitation of Quinn. Santana tried not to laugh and decided that using Rachel's name was as far as she would go in her impersonation.

Thankfully, the attendant didn't have mind reading powers and when a big flashing sign and alarm didn't start blaring **'Liars, liars, liars! We've got a couple of lying liars here!'** over their heads, Santana breathed a bit easier.

Once safely up in their suite Santana sat down on the bed and allowed herself to relax, smiling at the spectacular view out of the window. Brittany ran around the suite opening all the doors and checking every room, every nook and cranny, for what Santana couldn't fathom. She was still feeling a little bit green as she pondered realistically how they were going to pay for the suite. If they didn't win, and Brittany was adamant they would, she'd have to pay with her card and her dad would know everything. Lost in thought she jumped as the bed moved and she felt legs wrap around her waist from behind and a pair of strong arms hugged her. Brittany rested her chin on Santana's shoulder and held her completely enveloped in a full Brittany hug. Santana put her hands on top of Brittany's and held her there.

"This is brilliant. Thanks for bringing me here."

"I'm sorry," Santana sighed. "About everything that went wrong this year. I want it to be just us. No one else. I don't want there to be other people."

"I don't like it when you're mad at me," Brittany's breath tickled her ear. "I've never seen you like that before. Deep mad. Nice mad. You didn't shout at me or be mean to me or anything."

"I'm sorry," Santana said again.

"You're silly." Brittany pressed her lips to Santana's cheek. "This is going to be the best vacation ever," she whispered in her ear. "Look!" They watched together as the fountains outside the hotel danced and splashed, lit up and changed colour. Santana's mood was getting lighter by the second.

* * *

Once they entered the casino games room, Brittany immediately squealed in delight. "Oh my god! Free champagne." She knocked back a glass and handed one to Santana who found her nerves lulled and somehow it became a lot easier to breathe once she had a bubbly glass of shampoo inside her. "Remember, S. Look 21, think 21. Oooh, free cocktails. I want the ones with the little umbrellas!"

The waiter smiled and handed her a pink cocktail in a martini glass with a pink umbrella and and a couple of cherries. "There is also a buffet if you're hungry, Miss," he said, indicating a hall off to the side full of food. Brittany's jaw dropped.

"We don't ever have to leave the hotel." She sighed happily.

Santana sat back and watched Brittany let her highly trained gambling senses take over and do her thing, not feeling in the slightest bit inclined to gamble herself. She guessed it would more than likely not take her long to become frustrated, lose her temper and start throwing things if she played. Brittany on the other hand.

Two glasses of champagne and six cocktails later Brittany had given up trying to remember how to use her card counting skills and had moved on to roulette.

"I won, I won, I won!" Brittany threw the eight thousand dollars worth of chips she had just won up in the air and danced as it clattered down around her.

"Congratulations Miss," said the dealer without batting an eyelid as though he often saw people behave like this when they won. "You also get a bundle of discount vouchers for the local areas businesses. The King's Wedding Chapel across the road, Viva Las Vegas tattoo parlour, Miss Slinky's strip club and many more. Fifty percent discounts, tonight only."

"Woooo hoooo!"

As witness to all this, Santana simply blinked and peered deeply into her cocktail glass. These were really good. Really, really good. No, really, really, really good. They were giving Brittany mad math skills and she was winning. What the hell was in these cocktails? They had either made Brittany develop telekinetic powers or she had a strange natural affinity with the universe in which she could predict exactly what number the ball was going to land on. Fuck, these cocktails were good. She needed another. "C'mon B. More drinks and some food and then more umbrellas and then something."

"Okay," Brittany chirped happily, taking the bag of chips the roulette dealer had collected for her.

"We could live here," Santana said. "You could go to work and win the money and I could live next to the pool with a cocktail in hand. Mmmm."

They tottered out of the games room arm in arm with Brittany clasping her bag of chips tightly to her chest when Santana halted suddenly, stopping Brittany from rushing past her. "What? What is it? I've gotta pee," she turned to where Santana was staring with her mouth open in surprise.

"Look. At. That." She gasped. "No. Freaking. Way."

**'Tonight at Caesar's Palace.**

**For one performance only.**

**Barbra Streisand!'**

"Kurt and Rachel would have curled up and died from diva fever already," Brittany said. "Oh, you know what? The whole glee club wouldn't believe it if we got our photo taken with her. And we should get her autograph for Kurt. And Rachel."

Santana screwed up her nose in disgust. "Whatevs, B. We should get our photo taken just to rub their noses in it. Can you imagine the look on Rachel's face if we met her idol," she sniggered.

Brittany couldn't stand still any longer and ran off to find a bathroom leaving Santana to plot and scheme and imagine the look on Rachel's face if they met and corrupted her idol. Climbing happily out of her daydream Santana looked around to find Brittany no where to be seen. She began to panic. She couldn't lose Brittany, not in Vegas. _Shit._

Not knowing where to go or able to turn and look around without getting dizzy she decided to stand very still and hope Brittany came back. After a few minutes of swaying on the spot her mood darkened again and she decided to take it out on the nearest thing.

Looking around she surreptitiously leaned against the display case holding the Barbra poster and tried to jimmy open the glass door housing the hallowed poster. If they weren't going to go to the show, and lets face it she really didn't want to, she was sure as hell going to steal the poster.

"Excuse me, Miss." A very young and green around the ears security guard interrupted her not so covert thieving. "What do you think you're doing?

"Uh nothing, obviously. I was just taking a closer look. I wanted to know how much tickets were. It must be written on here in teeny tiny writing cos I can't see it anywhere."

"Oh, I see," he smiled, falling for her every word.

_What a dumbass, _Santana rolled her eyes at the rather Finnocence-like guard.

"They're five hundred dollars."

"For serious?" she yelled. The guard was saved from an outraged ear bashing courtesy of Santana, on the ridiculous cost of everything in Vegas, especially the price of her rooms mini-bar, by Brittany's return. She slid her hand into Santana's and smiled at the guard who's worried frown melted and he couldn't help but smile back.

"What's going on?" Brittany asked.

"This guy," Santana began.

"Joe," he interrupted, sticking his hand out to Brittany who shook it politely with a giggle.

"Was just telling me how much the tickets are. Five hundred bucks each!"

"Maybe I can see if I can get you some free ones," he mumbled, smiling goofily at Brittany. Santana's eyes narrowed.

"That'd be so cool," Brittany beamed obliviously back at him.

_The fuck it would. _"Did you see that?" Santana stared behind Joe with an alarmed expression on her face.

"What?" Brittany and Joe looked around.

"Someone just snuck into the stage area. Isn't it closed until the show? Aren't you supposed to be guarding it?"

"Oh crap, where did he go?" Joe started to panic. He unlocked the door to the showroom not realising no one could have gotten past him if it was locked, flung it open and entered the room while the girls followed him inside. "Where? Did you see where he went?"

"Over towards the stage," said Santana following him across the room. Joe and Brittany looked under tables and around the room for the mysterious intruder until eventually they all made it up to the stage.

"Must have been my imagination," Santana shrugged. "I'm sorry Joe, we're going to have to leave you here. Britt, tie him up."

"What?" Joe gasped in total confusion.

"I wants that poster," Santana hissed at him.

Brittany needed no further explanation as she went to work, the Britt-struck Joe finding himself helpless in front of her. She stood flush against him and he forgot all his training as she pulled down his jacket and tied his hands together with the sleeves. Within minutes he was stripped to his underwear and tied to the top of the grand piano.

"Later Joe," Santana called, as she walked away. "Nice Batman boxers. Keep your eyes to yourself in future." With that they strolled off, heading for the exit with a security key card and Brittany swinging his set of handcuffs from her fingers. Brittany turned and waved just before the door closed behind them and clicked locked.

"S, I've got a brilliant idea."

"Ha ha ha! Not as brilliant as mine," Santana cackled as she busily unlocked the display case and removed the Barbra Streisand poster. A clicking noise made her look down to find one ring of the handcuffs on her left wrist. Another click and the other half was locked onto Brittany's wrist.

"I lost you once, I don't want to do that again. So we can't lose each other."

Santana grinned widely at the sheer brilliance of that plan. Why hadn't she thought of it before? "You wont ever lose me."

"It's a good thing I peed before we put these on otherwise we'd be in trouble. Although the bathroom's are really nice. There's even carpet on the walls. And flowers. McKinley High could learn a lot. Principal Figgins should bring us here on a trip and we could remodel the school as a casino."

"We'll tell him when we get back," Santana nodded.

Four more cocktails later and they were in the elevator hugging bags of money. Brittany had insisted they change it to cash straight away so she could sleep on it without the chips digging in her side.

She was jumping up and down on the bed and Santana was in a state of money induced shock which involved hiccuping and then giggling loudly after each hiccup. "What's next? Shall we try a different casino? This one's easy," asked Brittany, using the bed as a trampoline. Santana threw bundles of notes at her and then joined in bouncing up and down letting the cash flutter about them. "Are they like computer games? Can we go up a level? Do they do that? Can we go to a medium level casino or a hard level one?"

Santana tired of jumping first and collapsed onto the bed, dragging Brittany down with her and pulling her into a giggly kiss. Rolling around on the mattress of money, a golden voucher caught Brittany's eye. "San, look!" Santana moaned as she broke off the kiss.

"Look," she persisted, waving the voucher "You know what would be really funny. Even funner than seeing Rachel's face when we show her the photo of us and our soon to be new bestie Barbra." She leaned closer and whispered into Santana's ear. A huge grin broke out over Santana's face and she laughed and hugged Brittany.

"Best idea ever! We'd really be bff's forever!"

"Yeah, and you'd definitely never lose me again. Anyway it's like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, one ticket in this whole pile of money. It's a sign," she nodded seriously to herself re-reading the voucher.

Minutes later, they could be found waiting for the elevator, trying to figure out how to function in handcuffs whilst giggling maniacally. The doors pinged open and their jaws dropped open at the sight that greeted them. Barbra Streisand was stood in the elevator along with a dark suited, crabby looking assistant jabbering away on a phone.

"Are you getting in or not?" Barbra asked, frowning at the two girls as they continued to stand and gape. Brittany dragged Santana inside and they stumbled on to the elevator with smile. Santana found herself unexpectedly starstruck and was relieved to let Brittany to do all the talking.

"We were going to crash your show just to make Rachel cry but we're busy tonight so sorry we cant come and see you," Brittany explained as though they had been friends forever.

"Hmm," Barbra made the non-committal noise eyeing up the excitable girls. "Who's Rachel, and why would you want to make her cry?"

"She's like the so-called leader of our school glee club."

"School?"

"School, college school," blurted Santana her cheeks turning a fierce red as she muttered. "It's fun. Brittany's the best dancer you've ever seen in your life." Brittany turned and smiled sweetly at Santana and kissed her hard on the lips. If possible, Santana blushed even redder. Brittany entwined their fingers together and turned back to Barbra.

"Rachel like, worships you. She'd die on the spot if she met you. She might actually wet herself if we had our photo taken with you. Can we?" She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"Only if you explain why it is you're handcuffed together," Barbra asked curiously, finding herself slightly fascinated by the two very odd girls she was sharing the elevator with.

"Oh, so we don't lose each other. We've had a couple of hiccups and this way we can't be parted."

"I see," she said, not seeing at all. "Why aren't you coming to my show?" Barbra asked, sounding a bit miffed that something was better than her show. "Busy doing what?"

"Crashing, we don't have tickets. And we're busy getting married."

"Aren't you a bit young to be getting married?" Barbra asked, kindly ignoring the crashing comment.

"Hmm, no. I knew we were going to get married since we were six but I just had to wait for San to catch up. You know what? You should totally come!"

"Pardon me?"

"To our wedding. We're going now, that's where we're going, right now." Santana nodded fervently in agreement. "We've got a voucher and everything. You could be a, a, a... whatsit called San?"

"Witness."

"Yeah," Brittany beamed. "A witness."

"I'm sorry girls. I'm due on stage in five minutes, I haven't the time to spare."

"That's the beauty of it. It only takes two minutes to get married. It's like getting a drive through wedding," Brittany insisted.

Ms Streisand's assistant put her hand over her phone for a moment and interrupted the madness. "I'm sorry Ms Streisand, there's been a delay with the stage. They're running thirty minutes behind. There's been an incident... with the piano."

"What sort of an incident?"

"There's a security guard tied to it in his underwear."

The girls tried not to catch each others eye and moved their hands around so the handcuffs were hidden from view. Santana snorted softly into Brittany's hair with poorly concealed laughter.

"Well, there you have it," Barbra shrugged. "You, my dear, are adorable," she smiled at Brittany and raised a hand to cup the girl's cheek while she grinned back. "I guess I would be honoured to come to your wedding."

Santana's jaw dropped. _Seriously?_

"Just so long as I'm back on stage in time."

"Ms Streisand!"

"Oh loosen up Hillary. I'd rather spend ten minutes with these girls, witnessing them getting happily married, than any more time spent with that awful perverted little casino owner droning on, talking absolute bull and drooling over me. Now that's settled, let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

_Sad news folks, apparently you can't really get gay faux married or gay real married in Nevada. But let's give whoever is in charge of that shit the two fingered salute and these girls are gonna do it anyway =)_

**VEGAS – PART 2**

Elvis rolled his eyes. He couldn't tell if they were just a pair of natural gigglers or drunk. Whatever. He was used to it, they got a lot of both. And damn, that Barbra impersonator was pretty good. "Have you prepared your vows?" He asked the young couple standing in front of him at the alter of the King's Wedding Chapel with a fierce Barbra Streisand watching over them from the side like a proud mother hen.

"I want to go first," said Brittany, as she bounced up and down in anticipation. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead together with Santana's, their eyes locked onto each other and it was like there was no one else in the room.

"I loved you from the second I saw you. And I knew you felt exactly the same when my mom took us to the mall and you attacked the freaky mime there and bit him cos he scared me. And even though we're banned from the mall for life and have to go in disguise every time we want to buy something, it was so totally worth it. Oh and my mom figured it out on that day too, just so's you know." With that, Brittany pulled Santana into a passionate kiss which went on and on and on...

Elvis cleared his throat trying to catch their attention and Barbra elbowed him sharply in the ribs and gave him a warning glare for interrupting. Eventually chemistry got in the way of their chemistry and a lack of oxygen broke them apart. Brittany slowly smiled and sighed, perfectly content.

"Santana? Your turn," said Elvis, he could see he was going to have to keep on reminding these two they were on a tight schedule.

"Oh yeah," she giggled. "I kinda forgot where we were for a minute there." She took Brittany's hands in hers and entwined their fingers together.

"B, you're the smartest person I know. It's like you can hear the song the universe is playing and you're absolutely beautiful dancing to it. When I touch you it's like I'm dancing with you and there is nowhere else I want to be. I love you and I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out."

During this epic and unusual exchange of vows Barbra noticed Elvis making sidelong glances at her. "What?" she hissed with a glower. "Shouldn't you be concentrating?"

"I was just wondering where you got your nose done. It's really good. I've never seen one that accurate."

She leaned in and spoke right up in his face. "Listen to me you poor excuse for a wannabe. Get these girls married or I will personally see to it that you..." Out of the corner of their vision they turned slowly to see Brittany and Santana watching them with fascination. "Just get on with it." Barbra snapped at Elvis and nodded to the girls.

"Do you Brittany S. Pierce take Santana to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

As Brittany opened her mouth to speak, Santana screamed. "Wait!"

The proceedings screeched to a halt. Everyone watched with interest as she dug around in her pockets looking for something, searching each pocket thoroughly then went back to the first one and pulled out two tiny pink cocktail umbrellas. "Here." She opened them and tucked one behind Brittany's ear and in return, Brittany tucked one behind hers. "Carry on Mr Elvis." She said calmly.

"Do you Brittany S. Pierce take Santana to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"Yes, I mean I will. I mean, I do."

"Do you Santana C. Lopez take Brittany to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do!" She shouted and they both dissolved into a giggling fit with their arms wrapped around each other.

"Do you have the rings?"

"Rings? Shit rings, I forgot rings."

Everyone looked around frantically for something they could use for wedding rings while Elvis just pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. What had he ever done to deserve this?

Barbra cleared her throat and pointed at Brittany's right arm and Santana's left, indicating the handcuffs. "Can't you just use those?" she asked raising an eyebrow. "I get the feeling, for you two, they'd be kind of appropriate."

"Mother. Fungling. Genius." Santana laughed in delight.

Brittany got a mischievous grin on her face. "They are kind of like giant rings."

"That's fine, whatever." Elvis was sounding more and more exasperated as the ceremony went on. "We haven't got all night, there's a mad rush on with these discount vouchers. Yoda thinks he's such a smart ass getting more punters in." He moved on quickly after receiving another Barbra glare.

"With the power of the state vested in me and in front of these witnesses I now pronounce you wife and wife, thank you very much. You may kiss the bride."

That last part was totally unnecessary as they were already wrapped around each other and making out rather passionately not giving a damn who was watching.

"Ahem. We have a lot more weddings to get through so if you could save the party until later and take it somewhere else," asked Elvis.

The girls broke apart, Santana looking rather giddy and dazed at having been kissed so passionately whilst under the affects of alcohol and Brittany was so happy she was almost floating on air. They grabbed Barbra into a double handcuffed glomp of a hug and she hugged them back fiercely. "Well done girls, well done."

"Can we get a move on? Uh huh, uh huh. Wedding photos."

They all stood and posed while some little guy they assumed was the mysteriously named Yoda, snapped some shots. He handed the camera to Elvis and he plugged it into his laptop to upload the photos.

"I have to go I'm afraid girls," sighed Barbra with real regret. These kids were crazy, and she was pleased to admit she liked them a lot. She nodded her head indicating her highly anxious looking assistant. "Before Hillary here blows a blood vessel. Thanks for inviting me and I'm so happy for you. Try and be a bit nicer to this Rachel girl and I'll pass on an autographed photo."

"And Kurt."

"Pardon me?"

"Could you sign it to Rachel and Kurt?" Santana sniggered envisioning them fighting over it.

"Thank you," Brittany hugged Barbra and her assistant who was looking thoroughly stressed out and more than a little bewildered.

Santana smiled shyly at the superstar. "Thank you."

"I hope you girls are very happy together."

"We are, forever," beamed Brittany.

"Ms Streisand we really have to go," Hillary, her assistant tapped her foot impatiently.

"Is there anything I can do for you two as a wedding gift?"

Santana looked over at Brittany who was standing at full stretch as far as the cuffs would allow, waiting impatiently next to Elvis's laptop for the wedding photos to upload. "What? No! I mean you've done enough really just being here. B's so happy you came."

"Are you sure? Young love. I'd be happy to do something for you, tickets for the show?"

"Actually, do you know which hotel has the pirate ship?"

"That'll be Treasure Island. You really don't want to see the show do you?"

"Thanks, but Britt really wants to see the pirates."

"That's it, that's your gift? Directions."

"Well, maybe there is something." She leaned over and whispered intently in Barbra's ear.

Barbra frowned and considered the request, then laughed. "It wont be the strangest request I've ever made. Hmm, leave it to me. Midnight." She hugged Santana again. "Good luck, kid. Make sure you look after that girl."

"I will," she promised fervently, trying to look serious but failing to keep the ridiculously happy grin from her face.

"Have a great show!" Brittany called as the singer made her way down the aisle. "Make sure you go to the bathrooms by the whirly table. They've got carpets!"

"Break a leg," Santana hollered across the chapel.

"San!"

"She knows what I mean."

They waved goodbye as Barbra freakin' Streisand left the building.

"So ladies," interrupted Elvis. "And how are you going to pay for this?"

"I didn't bring any money," said Brittany.

"Neither did I." Santana slapped a hand to her forehead. "It's all in the room. Oh wait. I've got a credit card, will that do?"

"Don't forget this." Brittany waved their discount voucher in Elvis' face. Elvis snatched the card out of her hand and the voucher and before they could blink it was swiped and paid for and done and dusted.

"Awesome," she smiled happily. "Let's go celebrate!"

"Bye Elvis," Brittany winked. "If that is, in fact, your real name."

"Say hi to Yoda and stay off the burgers!"

* * *

Out in the cool night air the newlyweds walked down the Vegas strip, their arms swinging between them and hands clasped. For once in her life Santana found herself lost for words and worryingly self-conscious. She looked down at their hands but didn't dare to look up at Brittany. An expectant silence had descended upon them. Eventually with a sigh she glanced sideways to find Brittany watching her with an adoring gaze and a knowing smile causing the tips of Santana's ears to turn red.

"What now?" Brittany asked quietly, finally breaking the silence.

"I've got a surprise for you." Santana returned the smile almost shyly. "It's a bit further down this way."

They walked in comfortable silence, simply relishing the others closeness and how awesome this night was proving to be. Every now and then one would glance sideways and simply smile joyfully at the other. Brittany moved closer and closer to Santana as they walked until their right and left arms respectively, were entwined around the other.

Santana finally thought of something clever to say. Pure genius she was. "Who do you think would win in a fight, Elvis or Barbra?"

Brittany considered the question thoughtfully. "Barbra, totally. No question. She's a total bad ass, she reminds me a bit of you." Santana looked quite pleased at the compliment.

"We're nearly there," said Santana after ten minutes walk of leaning comfortably into each other. "Close your eyes." She stepped in front of Brittany, reached up and covered the other girls eyes with her hands. Thankfully they didn't have much further to go because this simple action was infinitely trickier than normal because of the handcuffs. Santana had to walk in front of Brittany but backwards herself so they didn't perform a weird upright version of Twister.

"Ready? And... Ta da!" She dropped her hands.

Brittany was jumping up and down in excitement, she squeaked with delight.

"Pirates!"

"Arrrr," Santana affirmed. "There's like a show or something and these mermaids try and lure the pirates to their death-" she began to explain.

"I want an eyepatch," Brittany demanded, totally oblivious to anything like show, plot, or the fact that there was a battle currently running on the pond in front of the Treasure Island hotel, pirates firing cannons from their ship and shouting and splashing while almost a hundred onlookers watched in awe.

"You got it babe." Santana calmly accepted it in her stride.

_Anything for her girl. Her wife. Shit. Her wife. Shit. Shit. Shit. _

Something stirred deep inside her but she couldn't figure it out through the alcohol induced haze her brain was struggling to function in. She pushed the feeling aside and filed it away to be pondered over later. This was important, this was something massive and she needed time.

"Lets go." The gulp in her voice was lost as she pulled Brittany away from the crowds and around the corner where, out of view, they scrambled over the fence, which is extremely hard whilst handcuffed btw. They landed with a thud and a giggle concealed from the view of the crowd by some shrubbery.

"This way," Santana said in a hushed whisper. Why she was whispering she couldn't say, there were cannons going off frequently with loud bangs, explosions, shouting, screaming and sexy mermaids dancing around, so the crowds watching were paying no attention to some moving, giggling shrubbery.

"Remember your Cheerios training," Santana whispered before they slid down into the water tank where the tourist attraction was housed. "And we will get out alive."

"Wait." Brittany sounded worried. "What if I get seasick?"

"You won't, I promise," and Santana leaned over and kissed her fiercely making her momentarily forget her worries.

They entered the water like Navy SEALS entering a combat situation, only their eyes and the top of their heads visible above the waterline, and made their way over to the ship. As the carefully enacted war took centre stage at the front of the ship no one noticed two girls climb up the other side of the vessel via a convenient rope ladder and onto the deck. They ducked down behind some barrels as a man on fire ran screaming past them and threw himself off the side of the ship into the water.

"Don't worry, I'm sure that was part of the show," whispered Santana hopefully.

"Which one do you want?" Brittany asked. They peered over the top of the barrels observing the fighting pirates and what looked like hot wet dancers, which was a bit confusing. A devilish grin emerged on Santana's face as she sighted the pirate she wanted.

"That one." Her eyes gleamed as she pointed to the front of the ship where the Captain was barking out orders to his scurvy sea dogs, wearing the prized eyepatch. Brittany smirked in response.

They were momentarily distracted from their prey as a pirate scrambled down from the crow's nest from the nearby mast and fatally paused to pick a cutlass up off the deck. It cost him his dignity. Before he realised what was upon him he was highly effectively clotheslined by the two handcuff wearing teenagers. They dragged his limp body back behind the barrels and began to strip his clothes off. They then tugged the groggy sailor/actor/clueless innocent/poor kid trying to work his way through college, to the side of the ship and tipped him overboard.

Brittany giggled maniacally as she undressed and took the stolen pirate shorts, shirt, waistcoat and bandanna and began to put them on. Her laughter was short lived as she spent a thoroughly puzzled few minutes trying to work out how to put on the shirt and waistcoat over the handcuffs. Each failed attempt drove Santana further and further into hysterics. Brittany eventually settled on simply ripping the clothes out of sheer frustration and huffed as Santana was no use whatsoever and just laughed helplessly.

"Your turn," grinned Pirate Brittany, finally dressed, nodding towards the Captain. "Let's do it." Santana snorted with laughter right in Brittany's face, all control lost. "Hey stop it," she pouted. "Come on. I still haven't got my eyepatch yet." She grabbed Santana's face in her free hand, squeezing her cheeks as tears of laughter trickled down onto her hand. Brittany tilted her head to the side and her eyes narrowed. She pulled Santana towards her and kissed her, immediately halting the laughing. She felt a smile as she was kissed right back.

"That's cheating! No fair." Santana mumbled.

"I learned from the best. Now come on before they find that pirates body and call CSI."

Brittany took command, convinced no one would suspect them as intruders now she was cunningly disguised as a pirate. She picked up the discarded cutlass and dragged Santana, who was still seemingly deeply involved in a fits of random hysterics, across the deck dodging shouting pirates and random waves which seemed to shoot up over the side of the ship without provocation. She jumped up the stairs three at a time to the top deck, using mad dancing skills to keep Santana upright by her side the entire time, until they reached the Captain standing by the ships wheel and shouting a lot.

Santana watched with unabashed awe as Brittany jumped onto the Captain's back and wrestled him to the ground. She shoved his hat down hard on his head until it touched his nose so he couldn't see his attacker.

"This isn't in the script," he screamed. "My agent will hear about this! Mmmmmphfff." Brittany tied her bandana around his mouth and gagged him. The actor flopped on the floor, he had seemingly fainted from the shock attack.

"You are so awesome," sighed Santana proudly at her girl. _Wife. Shit. _

Brittany pulled his long crimson coat off and threw it at Santana then went to work on his shirt. Santana's giggles abated only to be replaced with shocked hiccups brought on by laughing too much. She nearly choked on a hiccup when a fat hairy pirate appeared next to her, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, trying to work out what part of the show this was supposed to be.

"He collapsed," Brittany yelled above the battle noise. "We have to get his clothes off so he can breathe!"

"Oh shit. I'll go get help," and the pirate dashed away.

"Quick!" she threw a shirt at Santana and then finally relieved the Captain of his last shred of dignity by stealing his breeches. Santana grabbed the pièce de résistance, his eyepatch, and then decided she wanted his hat as well. She was mildly relieved to hear him moan as she tugged off the hat where it was wedged down on his nose, indicating he still lived.

They scurried away to the barrels but didn't have time to get changed as the music and show ground to a halt. The battle ceased and paramedics boarded the ship and ran to the Captain. The cast gathered around them. Murmurs from the crowd could be heard as they tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

"Man overboard!" Someone screamed, having caught sight of the first unfortunate pirate victim struggling out of the water. He appeared horrified to see everyone looking at him stripped down to his briefs. Behind the barrels Santana and Brittany sat stock still wondering what in the name of hell to do now. They looked up.

With everyone distracted by the almost naked actors, the Captain milking the attention like he was featuring in an epic death scene written by Shakespeare himself, the girls took advantage of the situation and tiptoed over to the mast, climbing up to the crows nest out of reach from prying eyes. They ducked down in the small perch at the top of the mast hidden from view in plain sight. Santana dressed hurriedly trying not to laugh as she struggled with her shirt and coat just as much as Brittany had.

"What's is called when you take over a ship?" Brittany mused quietly.

"Piracy."

"Oh." Brittany sounded surprised. "Even a pirate ship?"

"I guess."

"That kinda makes sense."

The crowds dispersed soon after the paramedics had left having found nothing broken but some egos. The rest of the actors had left long ago happy for an early finish. It was getting late and the lights which lit up the ship during performances were turned off leaving only a few dim artistically placed spotlights to light the ship to dramatic effect. Hotel staff and security had searched the ship for the alleged blonde pirate attacker tied to another dark haired girl, as the Captain had identified them. Finding nothing aboard the ship they went on to search the rest of the hotel grounds and facilities.

In the crows nest, slumped against the mast, Brittany snored gently wearing her eyepatch with her head resting on Santana's shoulder, the captains coat draped triumphantly over her. Santana sighed happily. What a night. And it wasn't over.

Peering over the edge of the lookout Santana could see the odd flashlight appear in the grounds from the extra security patrol placed on guard for the rest of the night. She looked up to the top of one of the hotels easily visible from the ship and checked the time from where a giant digital clock was mounted. 11:58.

"B, wake up," Santana nudged the gently snoozing girl.

"Mmmmphff wassat? Ten more minutes." Brittany mumbled. The clock turned to 11:59. There was no time left to waste so Santana kissed her awake. "Hmmmmm," Brittany smiled as her eyes opened.

"You were pretending to be asleep," Santana accused.

"I was resting my eyes, and waiting for you to kiss me."

"You have to wake up for this. I've got another surprise for you."

"I love surprises!"

"I know you do, watch the hotels." Brittany waited with interest as the clock on the hotel front counted down to midnight. "C'mon Barbra, don't let me down," Santana muttered under her breath.

Perfectly on cue, all the lights on the front of the hotels went out and then lit up in a specific sequence. From their birds eye view in the crows nest the lights ran down the Vegas strip, peoples hotel room lights flashed off and on to spell out a message. The lights spelled out inside a heart shape 'B+S forever'

_I will never disrespect the Streisand again. Not even to piss off Rachel. _Santana swore to herself in triumph.

Brittany's jaw dropped open and she squeaked in surprise she turned to see Santana grinning wildly at her. "How did you do that?" she squealed throwing herself further into Santana's arms.

"Ahh well, you know. Anything for you babe."

After approximately twenty seconds and without further warning all the lights went out and the message disappeared. Then all the street lights went out, and the traffic lights and buildings, businesses, casinos, hotels. You get the picture. The strip turned to darkness for miles around, the only light which cast a dim silvery sheen over everything came from the moon high above them.

"Oops. I think we blew the power," Santana sniggered. "We are just that awesome."

Voices rose up from the street and the people still out who had been enjoying their evening got louder wondering what was happening.

"We have to get out of here. C'mon, B, quietly, there's security around."

Santana began to climb over the edge of the lookout and watched as Brittany stretched and then shouted like Sloth from the Goonies as loud as she possibly could. "Hey you guys!" from the top of the pirate ship. Santana stared wide eyed at Brittany who grinned back. "I've always wanted to do that." she explained. "What?" she asked in response to the horrified look Santana was wearing. "No one saw me, it's dark!"

From somewhere in the dark undergrowth a dog barked. The dog belonging to the security patrol.

To avoid the guard dog they swam over the same way they had come in and freedom was within Santana's reach as she got them to the fence. A growling and rustling from the undergrowth thought otherwise as an overzealous guard dog which had escaped from its leash confronted them. Santana closed her eyes and stood in front of Brittany, her mind screaming, _I knew she would be the death of me. I knew it. Teeth! Teeth! Teeth! _Then, nothing happened.

She cracked open an eye and her fear fizzled away as she watched the stupid dog flop down on the floor at Brittany's feet and roll onto its back. "Awww he's so cute. Hello fluffy," Brittany cooed, rubbing his belly. "We should totally get a dog San."

Shaking her head in disbelief, unable to comment on the idea and still in shock from what she had been certain was a near death situation, Santana pulled Brittany to the fence and they scrambled over it and onto the sidewalk. Santana started swaying on the spot in drunken relief, alcohol wrapping around her brain and comforting her.

"Bye, puppy," Brittany whispered, sticking her fingers through the chainlink fence and laughing as the dog licked her fingers. "Are you okay?" Brittany asked worriedly eyeing up Santana who looked like she'd just endured a sea battle and a run in with a kraken.

"I feel like I'm on the sea."

"How much of the seawater did you swallow? Ewww, I bet people pee in it."

"I need a cocktail," Santana muttered morosely at the thought of pee.

"Let's have the green ones this time," Brittany agreed excitedly. They began the long dark walk back to the hotel, soaking wet, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind them and totally happy for two different reasons. Santana for being alive and not mauled to death and Brittany. Well, she was always happy.

"Who are B and S?" They could hear people muttering. "They've wrecked Vegas, whoever they are."

"This shouldn't be allowed, they should be caught and locked up."

"You cant have Vegas without power!"

"Hey isn't B and S, Barbra Streisand's initials?" Santana dropped the comment into the middle of the pedestrians and let the rumour circulate. "Yeah, wasn't she performing at one of the hotels?" She said next to another group of clucking, tutting strangers.

They walked through the discontented people huffing and puffing on the sidewalks, handcuffed hand in handcuffed hand. Brittany reached into her pirate pocket and pulled out their remaining bedraggled vouchers she had won at the casino.

"Hey, what have we got left?" She lifted up her eyepatch to read them in the moonlight. They thumbed through the pile of soggy paper.

"A strip club wont be any use in the dark. What about Joey's pizza?"

"I'm still stuffed with those volcano things they served at the casino."

"Vol-au-vent's?"

"That's what I said."

"Seeing how the theme for this trip is turning out to be forever, I think we should do this," Santana held up a wet voucher triumphantly. It read, 'Viva Las Vegas Tattoo Parlour'.

"Yeah!" Brittany agreed way too easily, beaming happily. "We have the best ideas! And it's open 24 hours!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Lopez Residence – Present day**

Santana's parents and Brittany's mother stared at the two girls in slack jawed amazement. The story that had just been relayed to them, Brittany style with Santana clarifying when she got confused (quite often), was spectacular to say the least, and they were pretty certain parts of the story had been censored for their own protection. The girls had also managed to omit mention of anything starting with 'tatt' and ending with 'oo'. Santana was determined her parents wouldn't see any body art she may unknowingly be hosting before she did.

"Then what happened?" Dr Lopez voice rasped in his throat.

"We got back to the hotel and the power came back on and then there were green cocktails this time and... then it all goes blank. I don't remember anything past that, I swear," his wayward daughter insisted.

"Good God," he gasped in horror, as their story stuttered to a halt. "You two are not safe to be let out."

Santana gulped, what did that mean for them?

"But I suppose," he continued. "At least you made it home in one piece."

"Sure did," Brittany chirruped happily.

**VEGAS PART 3**

**The morning after the night before...**

A beam of sunlight crept across the room and landed on Santana's right eye savagely stabbing her with its blinding brightness. She tried to turn over but her left arm was trapped under a heavy weight. She opened her eyes to find out what was pinning her to the bed and panicked when she found she was blind in her left eye.

_Holy fuck!_

_S_he ran her free arm across her face and felt around her left eye, ripping off, to her immense relief and total confusion, an eye patch.

_Why? Where? Huh?_

An unceasing thudding in the back of her head indicated the after effects of alcohol. She scanned the room. Her hotel room she recognised, _Thank you God_, and it was covered in money for some reason. Money which was fluttering in the breeze. The breeze from the great big gaping hole in the side of the building.

_Where the hell was the window?_

She tried to sit up but the weight was still holding her down. Her left arm led under a pile of pillows and blankets and wouldn't budge. She heard a moan as she tried to drag her arm out and the bedding began to move.

_Please God, be Brittany. Please God, I'll be good. Please let it be Brittany._

The bedding fell to the floor with a thud, the person under it also hitting the floor pulling Santana along for the ride seeing how they were attached via handcuffs.

"Ouch!"

Santana found herself on top of Brittany (_thank you God_). They both stared at each other.

"S. Why are we dressed as pirates?"

"That's what you're worried about?" Santana croaked, using her voice for the first time that morning. "Why are we handcuffed together?"

They both watched in surprise as a fifty dollar bill fluttered to the ground beside them landing on a carpet of many, many, other fifty dollar bills.

"Is that real money?" Brittany whispered as though it would all disappear, much like the crazy ass dream she had just had. Marrying Santana indeed. Ha, like that would ever happen. Not until Santana got over her gay panic episodes. One day, far off in the future, maybe.

"What happened to the window?"

"Is that _our_ money?"

"I think we need to leave." Santana's common sense began to sluggishly assert itself. "Before room service gets here. Or security. Or the management. Or the cops."

"What about the money?"

"They can use it to pay for the room. I'm not putting this on my credit card, my dad would actually physically kill me. Come on B. I only need my car keys. Where's the valet tag?"

"But where are our own clothes?" Brittany stared around the room more confused and bewildered than Santana had ever seen her. "Our bags have gone. I haven't got any shoes, only a cuttlefish."

"It's a cutlass babe."

"S, what's happened? What's going on?"

"We came to Vegas, I guess we saw Vegas and now... we're leaving."

* * *

They stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby momentarily taken aback to find steam billowing out of the designated 'Out of order' elevator next to theirs.

"Is it on fire?" Brittany asked a nearby bus boy with his sleeves rolled up.

"No," he explained, while running a curious eye over their strange piratical attire. "We had a complaint from a guest. Two girls were caught having sex in an elevator. They threatened to christen all of them so we have to steam clean each elevator in the hotel."

The girls exchanged a glance and backed away slowly.

"Most definitely time to go," Santana muttered, pulling Brittany with her.

Unknowingly imitating her reaction from the night before, Santana stopped suddenly as she peered into the display case which had previously held the Barbra poster.

"No freakin' way," she said in a hushed whisper. Brittany peered over her shoulder her eyes wide in horror as Santana cursed (much like a pirate). "A mime convention. What the fuck?"

"Let's get out of here," muttered Brittany, getting as close to Santana as she could, practically hugging her as she looked around nervously as though expecting an army of mimes to appear out of nowhere and pile on her.

"We could stay," offered Santana. "Get them all in one room lock them in and set fire to it?"

Brittany shook her head in misery. "They'd die in slow mo', without making any noise and doing weird twitchy hand movements." She shuddered.

"Okay babe, lets go." Santana said decisively seeing how upset Brittany was at the thought of mimes. She tried to lighten the mood. "You know what would be really funny, if it was a 'mine' convention and it blew up."

"I don't get it."

"You know mines, like bombs?"

"That's such a dorky joke."

Santana grinned. "If you wont let me fight a room full of mimes for you, and I totally would, then I'm gonna make dorky jokes."

"Okay," Brittany smiled into her shoulder hugging her left arm. "I wonder if our mime will be there and if he'd recognise us."

"I bet I could make him scream and break his vow of silence or whatever it is they do." Santana smirked, relishing the thought.

As they waited for the valet to bring the car they tried to look inconspicuous and innocent, which is incredibly difficult when dressed as pirates, bare foot and handcuffed.

"How am I going to drive when you're cuffed to my left hand?"

"You'll have to sit on my lap," Brittany smiled smugly.

"Oh yeah, the cops'll love that."

The car pulled up and they jumped in, the valet getting a shock as Brittany gave him a $200 tip, presumably to distract him as Santana sat on Brittany's lap and tried to drive. She began to drive precariously away not getting very far before both girls screamed as a body landed on the front of the car. They swerved wildly, running off the drive and into the front lawn of the hotel. They ploughed into a statue of some dead roman guy which wobbled precariously on the top of its plinth while wearing a suspiciously familiar looking long red coat and pirate hat.

"Jack, get off the fucking car." Santana yelled at the blonde haired security guard who had thrown himself onto the car in an attempt to stop them.

"Wait! I thought you'd want these, and my name is Joe." He climbed up onto his knees on the front of the car and handed the keys to the handcuffs over the wind-shield.

"Uh, thanks."

They quickly uncuffed each other and Santana started reversing back onto the drive. Shouting could be heard from the main entrance to the hotel and more security ran outside.

"Get off the car," Santana hissed at him.

Brittany grabbed him by his shirt pulled him into a kiss. "Thanks Joe," and as she shoved him off the car she grabbed his baseball cap with security printed on the front of it and sat it down firmly on her head as he helplessly rolled down a grass bank and into a pond.

"Are those our clothes?" Brittany asked, staring at the scattered articles of clothing she recognised over the excruciatingly manicured landscaped front of the hotel. She looked up and could see their room identifiable from all the other faceless monotonous hotel suites with a gaping hole edged with sharp glass shards.

Santana slammed her bare foot on the accelerator and they sped out onto the main road and headed away from Vegas as fast as legally possible.

Out on the highway and in the hot desert sun Brittany pulled off her pirate shirt revealing a tank top underneath. She leaned over and pulled off Santana's shirt revealing the same. She leaned over as close to Santana as she could and on her one shoulder was revealed a curved line with the letter 'S' next to it. As Santana leaned back into her, her tattoo was visible, a 'B' and a curved line. As their shoulders met the curves made up a whole heart shape and inside read 'S + B forever'.

* * *

**Lopez residence**

"So, where are we going for summer vacation?" Brittany asked Santana, oblivious to the shell shocked parental units still present in the room.

Dr Lopez snorted at the question and his wife had to nudge him sharply in the chest with her elbow. "They paid for it all themselves apart from the, ahem, wedding. Just let it go dear, it's all over now."

"Harrumph. I just, I can't..." he threw his hands up in the air and left the room shaking his head in despair. Santana watched him wide eyed.

"What does that mean?" Brittany whispered.

"I think we might be okay," Santana whispered back even though their mothers could hear them. "I bet he wishes he'd thought of it first." They giggled together, still ignorant of their mothers just silently absorbing everything they had just heard.

"Cool," grinned Brittany. "So I was thinking Disney World next time. Or Rio. They've got casinos. Or Reno, like the song."

"Reno?"

"I shot a man in Reno."

"NO!" shouted everyone including a voice from the next room.

* * *

**McKinley High**

A few weeks later Mr Schue walked into the music room with an envelope in his hands and held his hands up for the class's attention.

"Hey guy's. We've got sent a letter addressed to McKinley High Glee club from Vegas." A few people cast a quick glance to Brittany and Santana who were huddled together in the back row as usual.

"Who wants to open it?"

"I will!" Rachel chirped. "As Glee club co-captain it makes a certain amount of sense that I be the one to open any accolades we may receive." She jumped up and eagerly grabbed the envelope ignoring the "Shut up" from Puck and eye rolling from everyone else.

Santana nudged Brittany to pay attention and watch Rachel.

Her face froze in the cheery grin she was sporting, then her eyes glassed over with tears and a sob was rent from her lips. "How could you?" she waved a glossy photograph at the two Cheerios. "How could you?"

She threw the photo at Kurt and collapsed onto a chair on the front row sobbing while Finn tried to comfort her by patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.

Kurt picked up the photo and started gasping like a distressed goldfish, his mouth opening and closing, the only sound emitting was a snorting noise like an angry boar coming from his nose. Curious team mates crowded around the photo and Quinn sent the girls a smirk as she looked up to where Brittany was leaning back onto Santana with Santana's arm around her shoulder, happily watching the scene below.

In the photograph, Brittany and Santana stood with cocktail umbrellas in their hair, handcuffed together in a Vegas chapel, the King himself presiding over them, a big congratulations banner above them and Barbra Streisand with her arms around the two girls. It had been signed with the note.

**'To Rachel and Kurt.**

**Greetings from Vegas.**

**Wish you were here.**

**Love Barbra.'**

"What?" shrugged Santana, surveying the devastation before her. "I'm trying to be a nicer person." She tried to say it with sincerity but it didn't quite ring true. "I got you her autograph, didn't I?"

Rachel and Kurt sobbed on.

"Hey, there's a DVD in here," called Quinn opening her mouth and speaking before thinking it through, she was checking through the envelope in case they'd missed something else. "Vegas 2011, Santana and Brittany Lopez." She read aloud from the DVD case.

Harsh, brutal reality dawned on her like ice water down her back. Her head whipped up and she locked eyes with Santana like a deer caught in headlights. Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously and in a flash she was on her feet and running towards Quinn. With a scream Quinn ran out of the room and down the hallway, DVD in a vice like grip in her hand. She was determined to escape alive and with the DVD in her possession.

"Get back here tubbers!" Santana screamed, her resolution to be nice thrown immediately out of the window.

**The End**

for now

or is it

hmmm

disney world

…

;)


End file.
